Assassin's Creed III: From Humble Beginnings
by KtyouVsWriting
Summary: Connor Kenway, at first, wonders what will be of his future, who he is, but when a girl arrives at the Davenport Manor, seeking to be trained, he finds new purpose in training the future generation of the Colonial Assassin Order, and perhaps he will find a new family. Rated T for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1: Events Changed

**Disclaimer: I do not own Assassin's Creed. They are the property of Ubisoft. I can only say that my OC is my own.**

Chapter 1: Post-War Musings

April 7th 1783

Davenport Homestead

Post-American Revolution

Ratonhnhaké:ton was busy.

No, that was a lie.

He was not busy, at least not killing Templars, or saving his people from the American Revolution, or pursuing Charles Lee. All of his targets were dead and gone permanently, never to rise again. He was not busy helping the Patriots win a war. The war was won and the British were gone from this land, having been ultimately forced to recognize the nation now called the United States of America. He was not busy putting up with Achilles Davenport's constant prodding and persistence and banter. Achilles was now sleeping peacefully, and he missed the old man daily, much like his mother. He was not busy keeping his people safe. They had been driven out by the people he was protecting: the colonists. So what was there for him to do now?

After so many years of training, fighting, hunting, learning, evolving, and changing, he was here now. After all he had endured, after everything that he had sacrificed, after everything he had accomplished, after all the lives lost regrettably, after fighting a war on two fronts, both against the British and the Templars, it was all over, and now there was much to consider, a great deal to consider, and Connor did not know where to begin sometimes.

His people was the first thing that came to mind. More than anything, he desired their company, wanted it more than anything. He missed clan mother. Her words of wisdom had always led him to great lengths, and had guided him to begin his journey. It seemed so long ago that he had looked to the older woman for guidance as to what his path was, and he encountered Juno. Ratonhnhaké:ton, as a boy did not understand who she was and what it was she truly wanted as a result of his training, but like he would always do, he would follow and try to understand, and as a fully trained master assassin, he had been unsuccessful in keeping his people safe, and he still did not know what her true purpose for retrieving the amulet were.

Her explanations were dodgy and hazy at best. He suspected something was amiss. Something about her gave him pause, but he could prove nothing further, having only suspicion and mistrust for her now, and he could no longer communicate with her as the crystal ball he had used to speak with her was now destroyed. He still had questions for her questions, questions that would likely never be answered.

Her inability to answer his questions in actual answers but rather in riddles and preludes to a future that he could not fathom were driving his patience to the brink of collapse. Even his patience was not infinite. He did not wish to be angry, but if he could not truly understand the meaning of his work beyond defeating the Templars and protecting the colonists and his people, then it would seem that fourteen years of training was for nought.

Not only was he suffering from his inability to protect the people he swore to protect, but he now suffered from an identity crisis. Everyday ever since he had hidden the amulet where none might find it, he asked himself the same question, and did it numerous times during the day: Who was he? Was he Ratonhnhaké:ton, the Kanien'kehá:ka, the man that swore to protect their people from harm, and the son of Kaniehtí:io? Was he Connor Kenway, the Master Assassin, now the leader of the Colonial Assassins, and son of Haytham Kenway? Was he neither of these? Was he both? Who was he more loyal to: the Assassins or his people? Did it matter who he was more loyal? If so, which did he desire more? No, which was more important? Ratonhnhaké:ton or Connor would never seek his own desires. He had duties, but that still did not stop him from questioning.

Those questions swirled in his head, and he still did not have an answer, but he did have an idea. He wondered if he ever returned to his people that they would ever view him the same way as they did so many years ago. He was no longer a boy but a man. He had spent much time with the colonists that he began to speak English more, and had begun to think more as a colonist. Looking at himself in the mirror, he began to see a noticeable change in himself.

No longer did he go anywhere without his robes, unless he was captaining the _Aquila_, and even then, he still brought the robes regardless. Whenever he left the manor, he chose only to adorn his assassin robes. So much time wearing it had begun to have an affect on his skin tone. No longer did he look as dark as he was when he had arrived. His skin had become more light and now someone might easily mistake him for a colonist if they did not witness that his robes still carried the trinkets and remembrances of his people and his roots. The robes still, however, carried a heavy influence and inspiration from the colonists, and he had considered it more like a second skin than merely something that he wore.

Even if he did wish to return to his people, he had a much greater duty: to be an Assassin. As a Master Assassin, he now led the Order in the newly-born country. He now led those who had joined the Order. Six new recruits, all of them different, all of them unique, but all of them willing to fight for a cause greater than themselves. They now looked to him as their leader and mentor. Did that mean that he was now the mentor of the Order in America? Was he ready to carry this responsibility? He did not know, as being a leader was something that he was not certain was a strong suit. Others would beg to differ, like Faulkner. His first mate of the _Aquila_ would say that he was an exceptional leader. Maybe he was, but leading a ship and leading a secret order were two different things entirely.

He was pulled out of his musings and uncertainty and doubt. He did not ever doubt his abilities, nor did he ever believe himself to be invincible. He simply knew what he was capable of, and that was a lot. He would use these skills and stay true to what he knew, and now, he had a duty to the Order of Assassins. It was his duty to protect the innocent and to bring peace and freedom to people everywhere.

He supposed that now, Connor Kenway would be the man he would have to be. He could not abandon what he had become, not after everything that he had witnessed. Ratonhnhaké:ton was naive enough to believe that his people could ever be truly safe, and perhaps, it was for better that he remain separate. Thinking of them made his mind linger to his mother and father.

He had accepted the fact that his father was not the one responsible for the death of his mother, and in a way, he felt relieved. Although they were clearly not the ideal father and son, they did share an understanding and a respect for each other. Connor had accepted Haytham as his father, and in a way, he would miss him. As for his mother, she was always loving and caring. If could have one thing, it was her company.

He now stood in the cellar of the Homestead. In the aftermath of the war, he had begun to do some major cleaning around the Homestead, continuing to aid the community in whatever capacity he could, for which they were all grateful. They all felt that they owed him, and he did not want them to feel obligated to repay his kindness. He did not required acts of good to continue. Knowing that they were well and that they were keeping their community prosperous and content, that was suffice enough.

The only thing that Connor could really ask of them was to help him renovate Achilles's home, simply help to repair it and do it. They had all gladly begun to pitch in whatever time they had available to help him rebuild the homestead. Slowly, but surely, the place was being rebuilt, bit by bit. With the Templar Order all but dispersed, the Assassins could focus on rebuilding, recruiting, and watching for Templar plots wherever they could.

While doing the renovations for the manor that he now owned. Connor had come across some other hidden items and things of interest. Achilles had left many detailed instructions concerning everything there was to know about the homestead. He truly did appreciate the great lengths that the old men went to make sure he knew what to do.

Connor stared at the wall, where multiple robes stood on their posts. These were the robes of previous Assassins the Achilles mentored before they were all killed, and there were robes. It pained Connor to see these robes, because he now understood why the old man was so reserved, why he did not wish to take him in initially. The old man was worried that he would end up killing yet another. He probably thought himself responsible for their deaths. Connor considered that he ought to give some of these robes to the other recruits. They had earned the right to wear them, and the Master Assassin had always felt that wearing these should be more of a priority due to the symbolic meaning, not to mention the fact that them being here was a reminder that the order was light in numbers.

So much to do, and for once, there was time to do it. A rare statement indeed.

A slight noise alerted him to someone knocking at the door. For a moment, he tensed, then chided himself for being so hasty to action. He briskly walked up the stairs of the hidden room, keeping himself looking composed and sure. He didn't want to potentially risk scaring off anyone, but he didn't want to be caught off guard.

Once he was certain that the hidden basement door was sealed and the lamp lever was in place, Connor walked to the door. He paused at the door, waiting to see if there would be another knock. A three-second pause, then another knock came, this one just as loud as before, which was not particularly loud to begin with.

Deciding that whoever was at the door was nothing too probable to deal with, he opened it. What he didn't expect to find was a little girl, probably no older than thirteen or so. She had yet to develop as she had only just begun to display the qualities that women had. Her brown hair was tied back into a small ponytail. She was small, standing maybe a foot and several inches shorter than himself. Her head was down slightly, so he couldn't really see her face. She appeared to be really fearful as well as timid, her body was sort of curled up like a scared child would.

"Yes," Conner finally said after watching her for about several seconds.

She did not look at him immediately, but Connor did not force her to speak. She would speak when she was ready. She eventually looked up. Her face looked slightly bruised, and a bit blue. Her right eye carried three parallel scars, obviously from claw marks, and recently from the way it bled. Her eyes were a dark blue, very noticeable. She carried a look of anxiety and still fear, but clearly not enough to keep her away from here. She had at least some physical endurance if nothing else.

"Um...I was told to receive training here," she said.

Connor's face betrayed his utter surprise. This had been him so long ago. He had asked Achilles the same thing, but it had taken the better part of a day to finally convince the old man to take him in and train him. It had been a life-changing event, one that made Connor who he was now, and now, another had come forth, a girl this time, and now, it was within his ability to do what Achilles had done so many times in the past.

Connor stood there, arms at his side as he contemplated the girl. He didn't know enough about her, but what he could see was that she clearly needed help. The condition of her clothing was an obvious indication. Connor also noticed that she also appeared somewhat banged up overall, whether from an accident or on purpose, he would need to find out. Whether or not she was injured, he had the people of the homestead to protect, and he would do it to his dying breath.

"Where are you parents," he asked.

"Dead," she answered, hanging her head down. "Long time ago."

"And you have no one else to go to," he inquired.

"I've got no one else," she said, looking on the verge of tears. "I've b-b-been on m-my own for s-seven y-y-years."

Well, if Connor was going to test her, now was not the time to do it. Her words were genuine, and he didn't bother to use eagle vision. He did not have to. She couldn't stand up to him even if she attempted to.

"Come inside and we will speak more," he said.

Her eyes watched his own, the fear seeming to fade away a bit. Maybe she was more afraid of being rejected than being afraid of him, but there must be something else to it.

He motioned for her to enter the homestead, which she did with some reluctance. She took a good look around, not daring to move unless Connor said or motioned for her to do so. It was then that he also noticed a slight limp in her movement, and the Native could see a slightly bloody spot to her torn-up shirt. Letting his compassionate side take over, he instinctively grabbed her arm and began to carry her, but he didn't fully pick her up. He was only offering assistance.

Careful not to jolt her pain, he carefully led her into the kitchen area and set her down on one of the chairs. She slightly grimaced in pain just a bit, Connor set her down on a chair, her back leaning against the table. He needed to get her something to bandage her would and treat the wound.

"What happened," he asked, kneeling down to analyse the wound.

"My stupidness," she said glumly, "got jumped by a wolf. Barely killed it in time."

"You will need at least several days to recover from this wound," Connor said, examining the wound on her side, carefully applying a bandage to the wound, wiping away some blood from her wound.

If she was a fast healer, her full mobility would be back in maybe a week, and at the worst, maybe several weeks. As he finished bandaging her, he took care to note her expressions. Now, she looked far less panicked than before, but still her mind was on something. Connor supposed that now was as good a time as any to get to know the girl a bit.

"What is your name," he questioned.

The silence that followed was a bit alien to Connor. He'd seldom seen people hesitate when asked the same question, but the reply was truthful just the same. Truthful, but many others things as well.

"My name is Elizabeth Lawson."

"Why is it that you have come here?"

"I was told that you could teach me."

A pause.

"Who sent you here," he said.

"A spirit or some sort of hallucination," she spoke.

Connor finished securing the bandage and sat down next to her, the weight of himself and his equipment causing the bench to creak under the weight of his body, his robe, and his weapons and equipment.

"This spirit," he said, "was it female?"

"I don't know," she struggled to say, "the voice, it was strange. I couldn't quite place it."

The Master Assassin was now curious. If it was Juno, than maybe she had yet another task for him. The strange woman had mentioned that in time, Connor would serve yet another purpose, and at the time, he did not understand what it was, but now he had an idea based on this little revelation, but only an idea. Whether it was the same one that Juno referred to, he did not know. It did not allay his concerns and mistrust, however.

Still, he couldn't really apply the same treatment to the girl. She was merely doing what she thought was right, or doing it more out of desperation. It didn't matter. She was here now.

"Do you even know what it is that you seek," Conner continued, "or what it is that your quest has guided you into."

She shook her head. She was just as oblivious as he was when he arrived.

"No."

"I did not think so."

"I don't have anywhere e-else to go, mister," she pleaded, "please don't send me away. I'll do what I have to."

He could send her away easily with money and she would be back to where she was: without any hope. It would be a cruel thing to do, so Connor made his decision, despite carrying a considerable amount of self-doubt about what he was going to do.

"I would not do such a thing, but do you understand what you ask," Connor warned her, "Are you certain that you wish to do this?"

She nodded her head, almost too enthusiastically.

"Be certain about this," he heeded again, "for once done, it cannot be taken back."

She nodded again. Connor sighed mentally.

"I have a story to tell," he began, "and it may be a while. So sit for a while while I prepare a meal and tell you a long story."

Connor stood up to prepare some food from his most recent hunt. There had been a bountiful amount of elk around and he had brought several back to skin and gut for meat and other supplies that the others on the homestead might need. He also prepared some simple soup. It was a straightforward meal, but one that Elizabeth was gracious about eating. As he watched her eat, he could see the feeling of awe, the kind that spoke about her difficult. It appeared that she hadn't eaten proper food in some time. It amazed Connor how she retained a slender figure if she claimed to be alone, but that was a story for another time.

"We are the Order of Assassins, an organization that seeks peace and freedom for all people regardless of ethnicity, race, or religion."

She nodded slowly, taking in his every word.

As Connor spoke, he found himself going into great detail, particularly about the Master Assassins that came before him. He was sure to speak of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Ezio Auditore da Firenze, and even about his grandfather, Edward Kenway, after having read about his grandfathers adventures across the seas as a feared and known pirate and ultimately becoming part of the Assassins. He spoke of the many Templars that had come and gone, about who they were, where they originated, what they were working towards, where they resided, and for what purpose. Like Achilles, he condensed centuries into but a few hours of talk, but he talked more because he had his own adventures and stories to share as well.

The sun set as he concluded the lesson, but Elizabeth paid attention throughout the entire talk.

"So what now that the Templars are gone," she questioned, "does this mean the Assassins have won?"

"No," Connor answered immediately, "the Templar may have lost the advantage here, but make no mistake, they are tenacious. Others will rise, of that I am certain."

Connor paused to consider that she had not once said any words of confidence or certainty. That did bother him because if she was to become part of the order, then she would have to learn some sort of confidence and faith in her own abilities, but she would also have to be wary of overconfidence and arrogance. They all had to deal with it, even Connor himself had difficulties at times.

"Come with me," he said, standing up, "I have something for you to see."  
Motioning for her to follow, he took note to see how she responded to coping with injuries without his assistance, and he could see it didn't sit well with her, but she complied nonetheless.

Connor led her towards the hidden entrance. As he pulled the lamp lever and opened the door, she was taken a bit off guard. He began to descend the stairs, and she followed, albeit slowly due to her recently-bandaged injuries. As he reached the floor, he watched her limp down. As she took in the room, her eyes were drawn to the robes adorning the wall. Connor felt amused slightly. The robes were always sort of alluring in some way or form to just about everyone, and Elizabeth was no different.

The girl stood before one robe that was specifically fit for a woman. This one belonged to an Assassin whose name was Hope. She was a strong-willed and very independent woman according to Achilles. He had no doubt that they all were good students. At least most of them.

Elizabeth observed, but did not touch anything, but the Native could tell that she wanted to, so he decided to speak up before she did anything else.

"I would ask that you not touch those," he said neutrally, "those are a special symbol of the order."

"Right," she said, her hands jerking back. She looked a bit ashamed.

"Elizabeth," he began.

She turned to face him.

"I can see that you have potential, and you are seeking purpose in your life. This is not my decision to make. It is yours. If you accept this training, then I will share in our skills and knowledge."

Now the girl was thinking deeply. Connor had to press the issue of whether she felt that she truly wanted to be here. She did not really seem the type to have a strong conviction, but then again, had Achilles not also thought the same of Connor as a child?

Be that as it may, this was another situation entirely. This girl had been on her own, and therefore, Connor was concerned that she had no sense of helping others. Children having to fend for themselves usually did not think about others. Connor had developed his morality from his young childhood days, and he still held onto them. Elizabeth, by contrast, showed no such things, but could he really place blame on her as such? An orphaned child forced to survive without any sort of help and an orphaned child who had been taken in by fellow tribesmen were two different stories.

Connor knew that his sense of justice came from his mother's death, and that perhaps had the village not burned, he might not be what he was today. Elizabeth was not the same as he. Having no one to look up to would probably result in a person to be more considerate of themselves, but not for selfish reason. To preserve her own life was what she likely did this for, if she exhibited these kinds of personalities. Connor could only speculate about what kind of person she was.

She nodded her head slowly, her eyes meeting his own.

"Very well," Connor confirmed, "I will train you, and we shall see if you are worthy to bear the title of Assassin and all the privileges and responsibilities that it means."

She lit up almost instantly. That was another thing he would watch out for. Being an Assassin was not something to always smile about, but it was not really his place to tell her that now. She only needed to know certain things now.

"We begin your training tomorrow. Because your wounds still require time to heal, I will begin your lessons of the mind and prepare some studying for you to read and interpret."

The slump of her shoulders told me that she was not one to read and to do it patiently, but like it or not, the history of the order as well as the mental lessons were just as important as physical training. Her young age gave her an advantage as she would be getting years of prior experience and knowledge to guide her into the deadly world.

"I will show you to a bedroom," he explained to her, "perhaps you should rest. Training begins early tomorrow."

She nodded.

"I will do my best...um," she stuttered.

"My name is…Connor Kenway," he said. "or mentor if you wish. Either one is approved by me."

The Master Assassin now felt himself slipping further away from Ratonhnhaké:ton, but what choice did he have? He now had a student, and the notion of this frightened him in a way, but also excited him in another. No time for regrets.

Seeing that Elizabeth was still clearly not going to have an easy time making it up the stairs, he gently picked her up and began to carry her up the stairs and up the next set of stairs. Making his way into the bedroom, he carefully set her down onto the bed. This was once his room, but he had since moved in downstairs in the office. In any case, she seemed to just fall asleep so easily. She must have not slept for a while, that or she was exhausted. Taking care to not wake her, he quietly slipped out of the room. closing the door behind him.

Now, he had other things to do. For starters, he needed to get some equipment ready to go. In addition, he had to begin planning her physical training. He knew of a place in the forest where she could train. He would also create some obstacle courses as well as testing her ability to sprint and run for long distances. He would also need to strengthen her up a bit. She looked normal, but she needed to be better than normal.

What else did the girl require? Well, for starters, she needed some more proper clothes to wear, and unfortunately, there was very little female clothing that Connor could offer her. He would have to ask Ellen for some. She was efficient and rapid with her work as Connor had noticed when visiting her. If anyone could help him, she would know. Perhaps he would also ask her about to best begin a relationship with the girl. He was certainly not a conversationalist, and he did not want to be. Whenever he spoke, he spoke exactly what he wanted to say. He did not mince words and he did not hide any intentions.

Once he was outside, took to the steps to the dirt road. He paused to look back at the house. Apart from some candles, there was no activity. He shook his head. He was already worried for the girl. She would be fine.

Connor took to sprinting along the path, along the way, passing by a few faces of the other people living on the Homestead. He passed by Godfrey and Terry as they were heading for a drink. He stopped to greet them out of genuine kindness. He had not seen much of the people living on the Homestead for quite some time. He needed to reconnect.

"Connor," Godfrey explained, "haven't seen yer in a while, mate. What's the big hurry?"

"I must speak with Ellen," Connor explained, his hands behind his back, "I have need of her services. I have recently begun to shelter a girl named Elizabeth Lawson. I need to see to it that she has proper clothing as well as some other amenities."

"Well, I'll be damned," Terry responded, "didn't take you as the type to be taking in kids."

"She was injured and deprived of proper food and water," Connor elaborated, "I had to help her, and now she will be training under me."

"Well," Godfrey said, "you ever need helping with being a parent, we're here for ya."

Connor seemed a bit put off by being called a parent. He did not see himself as such, and parenting only reminded him of his own parents, both dead, and while he was not on the absolute best terms with his father, he could say that Haytham had not killed his mother. He forgave his father for that. Perhaps he did care for the man more than he cared to admit. If he was not a Templar. things might have been different. Connor steadied himself before returning to the conversation.

"I appreciate your offer," Connor replied, "and I will keep it in mind should I require the help."

With a nod and a quick smile, Connor took off in a sprint again.

It had been a simple errand to attend to. Once Connor had explained his situation to Ellen, the same thing he said to Godfrey and Terry. It was no secret that he was an important figure in the American Revolution, but that was the extend that everyone knew of him. All everyone knew was that he fought with the Patriots. They did not need to know about the Assassins and Templars, and he would keep it that way for as long as possible.

Ellen had been more than generous to help him, and she seemed surprised that Connor had chosen to taken in a girl and become her new guardian, but the woman did not doubt that Connor would do everything in his power to keep Elizabeth safe. Connor had kept them all safe and and assisted them all in their time of greatest need. The Master Assassin did not ask Ellen for help in regards on how to treat Ellen.

The man felt that if he was to raise her as an Assassin, he would have to watch her, to learn for himself, and to let her learn. Elizabeth needed to learn for herself, but his softer side spoke otherwise. When it came to children, Connor found himself unable to really treat them harshly in any way whatsoever. He might scold them and remind them what to do and what not to do, but never anything serious, and Elizabeth was still a child to him.

The Native sighed. It was a long road, and he prayed that he was doing the right thing.

**This will be my first attempt at Assassin's Creed. I got this idea while finishing up Assassin's Creed III, and the last conversation between Connor and Juno made me think of this. **

**If you guys believe this story to be a good idea, then REVIEW! Tell me the good things and the bad things. Remember, the more reviews I get, the more I'll be motivated to write this story.**

**If anyone cares to be a beta reader, then please PM me and we'll talk. Story ideas can also be PMed to me as well.**

**Keep in mind that this story may or may not be updated on a consistent basis, but I'll try as best as I can.**

**Hope you all liked it, and remember, only we ourselves can guard against our own demons and desires. No one else will.**

**Peace out!**


	2. Chapter 2: Elizabeth Learns

Chapter 2: Elizabeth Learns

April 8th, 1783

Davenport Homestead

Elizabeth's eyes flickered open. She took in her surroundings. It was still somewhat dark outside, but there was a faint flicker of daylight piercing the night skies. It was going to be full morning real soon, and she was excited for the day to begin.

The events of yesterday afternoon and evening came back to her, all crystal-clear. She had come here, not really knowing where she was going. The spirit had not really give her any sort of direction as to where to go. She just went where she thought was the right way to go. It had taken the better part of a week to travel from Boston to this place. The journey was littered with bandits and thugs around the road, and more than anything Elizabeth was fearful of being alone. She did not have any weapons apart from a rough knife that she stole prior, and she could barely defend herself. If she had the advantage of surprise, then all the better, but that much better.

It had been bad enough that she had to pickpocket and steal on the trip down, but when that deranged world sought to take her life, the only thing that she was running on was pure fear. That put aside all the pain and hurt that the wolf inflicted. She just slashed and punched and kick with everything she could. She was lucky that nothing too serious was injured. She would be out of the game for a while, but she would recover eventually.

Now here she was, training to be an Assassin. She was being trained by a Master Assassin. No, that did not do him enough justice. Elizabeth was training under The Master Assassin, the one who single-handedly had been able to charge armies, the one who had delivered the Patriots many of their victories, the one who everyone talked about theses days. It seemed that everyone knew him to be a hero and an icon. When she saw his face, she could recall some posters of him up around the city, but those were just simple drawings, and his hood was always up, not like now.

Elizabeth didn't know what to think. She was prepared to beg a storm if the man didn't want to accept her, but she was excited and relieved that he took her in without much fuss. He seemed like a good person, kind and gentle, which didn't make sense for someone who had fought in war and was considered to be a very skilled and dangerous warrior, but if Elizabeth had learned one thing, it was not to be picky. Connor had done for her than anyone had ever done for her. It was refreshing to find someone who didn't want anything from her in return. She was so use to having to do so much work to get so little, and now, she was not working for her survival, but working for something greater than herself. It was strange to think like this. She didn't help people, but she wanted to.

The sound of heavy footsteps became apparent, and slowly sat up, taking time to stretch and to prepare for her new guardian. Connor entered the room with some things, including a pen and some ink as well as some paper and several books, all of them large and filled with pages. This made Elizabeth. She did know how to read, but that was because she taught herself to read and write. She wasn't an expert at it, and she would be the first to say so.

"Good morning Elizabeth, "Connor said quietly, "I am merely setting this here. We will begin your lesson once you have eaten."

He turned to leave, probably to get food for her. She decided that now was a good time to get as awake as she possibly could. She didn't want to be too much of a nuisance from the first day, and she was eager to learn, even if reading wasn't her best way to learn.

Connor returned with a bowl of soup for her. He offered it to her, and she gladly accepted it. This time, however, she took more time to savor the food. Last night, she had been rather ravenous and ate without really tasting the food. At the time, satisfying her hunger was far more important than satisfying her taste. As she ate, she watched her mentor, who had several stacks of books, several pieces of paper, and a pen with ink in it. He began to open the books and study what each one contained. Elizabeth had no doubt that he probably had done the same thing before she came, but how long ago had he done lessons like these? Not for a while she imagined as he looked rather focused on the content within the pages and he did not idly skim through the pages.

Connor honestly didn't look that old to her. Taking another look at him, he looked certainly adult, but rather young still. His hair was cut in a way that she hadn't seen before: a single strip of hair that ended in a ponytail. The ponytail she was quite familiar with, but the single strip down the middle of his head was strange to her and foreign. Maybe she was reading too much into it. She shouldn't question too much right now because after all, he had agreed to take her in, train her to become an Assassin. The least she should be doing was trusting in him.

"We will begin with some philosophy lessons," he said, "Do you recall what I spoke of last night?"

Elizabeth put the spoon back into the bowl and carefully sets down the bowl, careful not to spill any of the liquid onto the floor or the bedsheets, thinking back into the conversation. A thought comes to mind.

"The Assassins fight for peace through freedom of all individuals. The Templars fight for peace through control of people," she replies slowly.

"That is right," he says quietly, "and do you know how our views are different?"

She struggled to think of a response. She was trying to think back to the story, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn't find the words to say. She didn't know the answer to Connor's question. And more importantly, she wasn't sure she understood both sides well at all. What were their differences?

"No," she replied shyly.

"It is alright," he says soothingly, "most who join this order must learn how both of our orders work through their own experiences, but I can give you a brief summary."

Elizabeth quickly took a sip of the soup before propping her head on her arms and listening intently. Stories were always a welcome thing to listen to, probably the best thing for her right now all things cosidered

"It begins with the origins of the Templars and Assassins," Connor began, "both have existed before recorded history. Originally, the Assassin's main goal was total peace and opposing those who would impose tyranny and injustice upon others."

Elisabeth slowly nodded her head in understanding. Her mentor's language, while complex, was nothing that couldn't handle, but she certainly did need to polish up on her readings. She wasn't exactly as well-spoken as some of the other folks she'd seen before.

"The Assassins were born to stop the Templars from their ways. The Templars want full control because they fear free will and want to ensure that no one can rebel against them. They would force us to do things against our own will, and most do not wish to be repressed."

She nodded again. She certainly knew what that was like, and truth be told, she liked being free, or as free as her life would permit, but there was more, she knew obviously. Obviously, this wasn't about personal gain.

"The Assassin's original goal was not that of freedom," Connor spoke, "but Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, during his path to redemption, began to question the ways of all things, why the Templars did what they did."

"What did he learn," Elizabeth inquired.

"Nothing is true, and everything is permitted," Connor answered, "There are no clear answers in life. There never has been, and there never will be. "

Elizabeth frowned. What was that suppose to mean? If there were no clear answers in life, how was one expected to live life without every having a clue as to what they were doing?

"I do not understand," she said, "How can anyone live knowing that everything they do may or may not be right or wrong?"

Elizabeth watched as her mentor seemed to laugh in minor amusement. She didn't know whether to be insulted or even more confused from this, but she didn't demand an answer further. She wasn't the Master Assassin here, and she certainly didn't have the kind of wisdom that Connor had. Even without knowing him for long, she could tell that sometimes, his eyes gave off the impression of being far older than he physically appeared.

"Elizabeth," Connor shook his head, "do not take the words so literally, but always keep this in mind. Remember the tenets of the creed."

"Stay my blade from the flesh of the innocent," she began.

He nodded.

"Hide in plain site," she continued.

He waited expectantly.

"Never compromise the Brotherhood," she concluded.

"Your memory does you credit," Connor said, "But it is not enough to merely learn from those that came before us. That is why every Assassin must find meaning in what they do. I do not decide what you do. That duty falls to you."

"I...understand," she said finally, but she didn't really, and Connor could easily see that, so he moved on.

"I believe we should continue on with Altair's story," Connor continued, "Once Altair became mentor, he took to travelling the world, establishing the Assassins in many nations and countries across the different nations and continents, hoping to find Templar plots and eradicating them, all the while trying to learn everything there ever was to know."

"Did he travel alone," Elizabeth asked. "Surely even with his abilities he needed help."

"Of course he had help, but not just from the Assassins," Connor answered immediately, "He travelled with a women, Maria Thorpe, who was a former Templar."  
"Why did he not kill her," she questioned.

"Altair did not kill her because he had no need to," Connor explained, "Altair did not execute anyone he did not believe to be worthy of death. Maria was intriguing to Altair due to her personality. She was out of place for the time. Women were not highly regarded during this time as the warrior sort. Even now they face certain...discrimination."

Elizabeth's frown seemed to deepen and Connor tried to appear a bit apologetic, and she stared at him for a few moments before finally relenting, knowing that he meant no offense, but that didn't mean she had to like the way society viewed the females.

"How do you view women, mentor," she asked.

He gave her a thoughtful glance before answering. She could swear that he looked a bit regretful for just a moment.

"I view women as equal as men," he elaborated, "My mother was a Native to these lands. In our tribes, women were viewed as important. Our leader, Clan Mother, was wise and experienced, and she led our people."

Elizabeth gathered that there was more to the story. She couldn't be certain but it sounded like a past long gone.

"How long has it been since you've seen you people," she asked hesitantly.

A long pause, and Connor stared down at the floor for a long time.

"Almost fifteen years," he said reluctantly, "And I may never seen them again."

"Why not," Elizabeth questioned.

If Elizabeth knew what she was doing, she would stop asking questions, but she wanted to know what he had gone through, to understand. Natives were spit upon so much, and yet, here was one who was perfectly normal, maybe different, but still Human.

"I failed to protect them," he said, "and they have been driven from the land. I know that I will not be a welcome sight."

"I'm sorry," she blurted immediately.

"Do not be, Elizabeth," he sighed, "They are my responsibilities and I must bear the burden. Your company is welcome when I have had only myself for a time."

There was silence, as Elizabeth couldn't find anything to say. It was surprising that Connor, an acquaintance, trusted her already so much, revealing what seemed to be really personal information to her. She knew personal stuff when she heard it, and he had said what looked like his most guarded personal thoughts or among his most personal thoughts.

"Getting back to the point," Connor recovered, "I believe all have a chance to do good, but unfortunately, most people do not share this ideal, as even in a country free from the British, the country still considers slavery to be acceptable."

"What kind of freedom," Elizabeth asked, "should people have. Wouldn't too much freedom be bad?"

"When we say freedom," Connor explains, "We mean within reason. The Assassins wish for a world in which all people can choose a path for them without doing hard to others. By nature, Humans are not evil. Self-preservation may be an instinct, but that does not make us evil. Be that as it may, not all people are suited to do the work we do."

"How can I be good for this work? I'm an orphan, with no such skills."

"By your definition," Connor spoke, "I should not have been able to become an Assassin either. I was born with a Native mother and a British, father. and I was orphaned as a child."

"Your father was British," she tilted her head in question.

"And the Templar Grandmaster of the Colonial branch," he concluded. "Despite the love we shared for one another, we came to blows, and I was forced to kill him."

Elizabeth shivered for a moment; she knew the pain of losing parents, and she had been there to witness it and be able to do nothing about it. The pain was...unbearable, and was numbing to great lengths. For a long time, she had thought that the pain of watching loved ones die was nothing in comparison to any sort of physical pain that could be inflicted, and sometimes, she even thought about that fateful night to nullify whatever physical pain she had inflicted upon herself either by accident or on purpose. She didn't think that anything could compare, but what Connor had said was far worse.

Parents were a sacred thing. They brought you into life and give you meaning, so to kill a parent would be beyond evil; it was...something she couldn't even begin to comprehend. She stared into Connor's brown eyes, to see if he was telling truth, and when she looked, she saw pain, raw, undeniable pain, like he regretted it.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I know the pain of losing parents, but killing one? I can't imagine."

"It is fortunate that you will never have to raise a hand against the people you care and love for," Connor said, "Even now, I grieve for my father, even if he was a Templar."

His head lowered to the ground as he stared at nothing. Elizabeth knew that he wasn't lying, as his eyes gave him away like an open book. For a moment, she wondered if perhaps there was something that she could do. She hated to see people suffer like this.

"Connor," she said carefully, "Are you alright?"

Connor gave her a thoughtful stare. Elizabeth didn't shy away from his stare, simply curious to see what he would say to her question.

"I'm afraid I'm past being alright," he sighed dramatically, "But that does mean there is no hope."

The silence that filled the void was somewhat uncomfortable for both of them. Elizabeth had no doubt overstepped her boundaries as apparent by his now quiet nature. She couldn't help it, though. Her naturally curious nature did this.

Then Connor seemed to calm down and gave her a look that somehow erased all of the tension within her and she calmed down almost immediately. How did he do that she wondered.

"My point being," Connor said, "With enough time and patience, people can become more than they believe themselves to be capable. And you can as well."

"I think I understand," Elizabeth drew out.

"These lessons aren't meant to be learned in a short time," Connor acknowledged, "but learned over years of experience."

Connor resumed his attention to the book in front of him. Elizabeth's eyes followed the text as he read from the book. He didn't stop to ask her more questions. In fact, the lesson wasn't like a lesson at all, more like a story for her to listen to. Never one to neglect stories, the girl listened attentively.

**()()()()()()**

After the lessons, Connor had taken time to assess Elizabeth's situation physically. He had seen many wounds inflicted by wolves in his lifetime. These were familiar to him, and he merely had to recall his experiences with these wounds to treat her own.

To his relief, the wounds weren't as deep as she had thought they were. She would heal in several days hopefully. The wounds had indeed been more than minor wounds, but not enough for serious injury or a permanent hindrance. All the wounds had more or less stopped bleeding and had begun to heal.

Connor had asked her to stand up and walk carefully with his supervision. At first, she was a bit unsteady with her footing, but slowly adapted and began to walk normally. If it was not for the Master Assassin's careful eyes, he might not have noticed her slightly awkward way of walking. She would make a full recovery fortunately, and Elizabeth was fortunate in that regard. The Native had seen wounds like these that left a mark forever on a person. With luck, he could begin physical training by the weekend.

Already, Connor had begun to taken in what sort of fighter she would be. She was only a child still, so she had time to develop, and this was the best time, when she had begun to mature into her physical prime. Her advantage would likely be maneuverability and speed rather than his brute strength and endurance. She might also wish to employ more underhanded tactics to win seeing as she wouldn't always be able to match strength.

As for weapons she would use, he would find what suited her. No doubt the weapons she would use would be much different aside from the hidden blades and perhaps a few utility items. He would try every weapon he could with her until one worked. If he couldn't find something, he would buy something. He had enough money to afford some more weapon types. It might take time to get, but it would be worth it.

"Are you sure that you can walk fine," Connor asked again, "You don't have to pretend with me."

"I think I'll be fine," she replied, "But thank you mentor."

He gave her a small smile. It was strange to find himself happy like this. This sort of feeling of bliss was something that he rarely had the luxury of enjoying. Something about all of this evoked emotions in him that he'd never find doing anything else.

"If you require something further," Connon continued, "Don't hesitate to tell me so. Otherwise, if you're able, meet me in the basement when you have the time."

Connor walked away, his footsteps soft on the floor. It was a habit of his to walk lightly. Years of stealth training and silence had taught him how to keep his footsteps as quiet as he could given his weight and bulk. For someone of his physical stature, he was still fully capable of sneaking into places without even a hint of detection. It was this sort of thing that he always did unless it was in a busy and noisy place such as the city, where noise was a negated factor.

As he descended the stairs into the cellar, he gazed upon the numerous Assassin robes he had found Achilles had left in his care. They were all unique, each with a beauty of their own. It was time they stop collecting dust like they were and it was time they were worn by the Assassins of the Colonial Order.

Connor's first thought was to grab paper and a pen. He began to write letters to each of the Assassins in their respective locations. It would take them time to get to the manor from where they all presently lived. So he expected at least another week of waiting for them all to arrive in full. Although they were his to command, he did presume to issue orders like he controlled them. He simply wrote to request that they come if possible. He trusted them to do what they all believed was right.

None of them were traditional Assassins in the sense that they spent years of physical and mental studies. Perhaps that was for the better in some manner of speaking. Each was uniquely suited to fighting a certain way. Though he hadn't much time to train with each of them directly, he saw in them a gift for combat. Although some were more blunt than others, they made for effective fighters as a whole. All that they needed now was some Assassin tools and they could really have the full knowledge.

The sound of footsteps turned his eyes for a moment before returning to his letters. She had taken longer than he thought, or maybe he wrote faster than he thought he did.

When her footsteps stopped sounding out, he turned to meet her. She was fully dressed in the clothing provided by Elizabeth. It was was more or less typical women's wear in the colonies, except the girl chose not to cover her head, and he could respect that. She did appear somewhat uncomfortable in the dress.

"I'm sorry that I can't find something more to your liking," he said, "Perhaps when we travel to Boston I can get you something you would like."

"That," Elizabeth paused for a moment, "Would be nice,"

He motioned for her to approach him and when she stood before him, he reached into one of the boxes placed on the table. The box contained a pair of hidden blades, two standard ones. Although Elizabeth was by no means trained with the weapon, she needed to have them. All Assassins, regardless of rank, carried these. In this girl's case, it would be for self-defense more than anything.

With the weapons in both hands, he turned around. His eyes were drawn to her reaction, which were surprise and confusion. Steeling himself, Connor stepped forward.

"I must do these formalities in order to fully induct you into the Order of Assassins," he said.

She nodded her head, and she stood at attention.

"Elizabeth Lawson," he said, "You have been chosen to serve as a Assassin of our order. You are to embark upon a quest that is never-ending, and it is expected that you will do everything within your ability to see that our goals are continued."

He paused to let this information sink in. She remained at attention.

"Do you pledge to stay your hand from the flesh of the innocent, and to protect them at any cost, even you own life?"

Connor waited for her to respond. To ask this of a child, he wasn't sure if it was right by any standards, but he was a similar age to herself when he came here. Hadn't Connor taken this same oath so other wouldn't have to?

"I...will," she said finally.

"Do you swear to always hide in plain site, to never strike and expose yourself unless necessary?"

Her eyes gazed to the ground as she thought about it. Then she returned to his eyes.

"I will."

"And do you swear to never compromise the brotherhood, to never bring harm to our brothers and sisters who fight with us?"  
"I will," she concluded.

Stepping close to Elizabeth, Connor brought the hidden blades to bear for her to see. She looked carefully at them, and then back to him.

"Then I welcome you, sister," Connor said, "Together, we will ensure that this new nation stands for what it promised to give. You hands please."

Elizabeth held her small hands out. Connor began with the right arm, strapping the blade onto her forearm. Once he made sure the blade was secure, he looked to her. She nodded her approval, then he moved to her left arm and did the same. With the blades now. she could truly begin.

"Elizabeth Lawson," Connor spoke, "You are now a novice of the Assassins, and as such a title is bestowed upon you. I expect you to uphold our order and all that we stand for."

The little girl held up her blades and they extended in full, and she took the time to inspect them thoroughly. It was a good step in the right direction. The way she held the blades was to be expected from a novice. After a moment of inspection, she lowered her arms and the blades retracted.

"On my honor," she replied with conviction, "I will fight for this order until I take my last breath."

**At this point, I haven't got much to say, so I'll just say that this story will be updated rather sporadically. I hope to write in full for it some time in the future, but I don't know when.**

**If you liked the chapter, please review. If you hated it, then tell me why. If you want to critique, then please do so.**

**Hope you all enjoyed, and remember, always be skeptical. Never take everything at face value.**

**Peace out!**


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